Acting on Impulse
by fiorae
Summary: Dean is tired of the sudden appearances, the know-it-all responses, and most of all that emotionless expression. He decides to give Castiel something to raise his brows at. Dean/Castiel SLASH warning


Acting on Impulse

By fiorae

Summary: Dean is tired of the sudden appearances, the know-it-all responses, and most of all that emotionless expression. He decides to give Castiel something to raise his brows at. Dean/Castiel SLASH warning

--

Sam wasn't there.

That realization had become less alarming to Dean in recent weeks. In fact, he'd begun to get more surprised when he actually awoke to find his brother's face in the morning. He knew just where it was Sam was sneaking off to in the middle of the night. And he knew with whom he was doing the sneaking.

But why they snuck at all was his question.

Sam was so generous in detailing the events of his brother-less four months (complete with interestingly executed sound affects) that Dean would have to have been an idiot not to know what he and Ruby were up to. His boy was becoming a man. Finally.

Dean leaned back into the uncomfortably stiff fabric of the motel couch and yawned. Getting a full night's sleep was becoming difficult even without the annoying sounds of Sam tittering away at his laptop into the early morning hours. Nostalgically, the older Winchester pointed his gaze in the direction of the abandoned electronic. It, quite like him, had become obsolete after Ruby was back on the scene.

"You seem lonesome."

And there was the damned angel. Dean tilted an annoyed sneer in Castiel's direction. This non-human entity was another reason he couldn't stay in dreamland for more than an hour. Whenever he found himself alone, Castiel seemed to just appear lacking any kind of formal warning.

"And you seem bored. What's wrong Cas, no demons to smite?"

"Your brother has it a bit preoccupied at the moment."

Dean would have hit him if God wasn't his pappy.

"Ain't there somethin' else you could be doing instead of making house calls? I'm not in the mood for company," he said under his breath, hoping the agitation he felt was evident in his voice. Whether Castiel got the message or not was undeterminable. He sat down on the non-couch either way, peering intently at Dean with those eyes that didn't belong to him.

"Why do you lie to yourself?"

" 'scuse me?"

Castiel didn't flinch. He put his hands together in his lap. "You must realize that you can't deceive me. I know everything. Every reaction you can have, every thought you might think. So why do you lie to yourself?"

The urge not to chuck the ol' fist at that perfectly stolen face was getting harder to resist. "I don't know what you're talking about," Dean mumbled. Castiel sighed. A lighthearted, almost pitying sigh.

"You're lonely, Dean. You feel worthless because the one person you could rely on to need you no longer does. Maybe jealous even. Of the demon holding his time hostage. Am I not correct ..?"

He didn't respond. Castiel made a sound as if he were pondering the meaning of life.

"I knew you had something of a brother complex, but _those_ kinds of desires …"

Dean abruptly turned and stared the angel in the face. That unflinching, unchanging, unphased face. The heat rose in his body and he became angrier and angrier at this angel reading his emotions and spitting them back out at him in that know-it-all monotone. He wanted to see him flustered. To see him react to something he didn't know was coming.

He wanted to hear him scream.

Dean stood to his feet and stretched audibly. He walked across the small room and into the kitchen, feeling Castiel's eyes following every move he made. The fridge door opened with a slight tug and Dean retrieved a beer from within. He turned back around to face the angel, leaned against the door to close it, popped the can lid, and began to chug. His eyes never left Castiel's and he was disappointed not to have seen any change in them by the time the can was empty.

"You drink, Cas?" he asked as he tossed the hallow tin into the waste basket and removed another round from the chiller.

"Sure. I also roam the dirty streets at nights with a prostitute on each arm."

So the angel had jokes.

"Maybe if you lightened up and relaxed once in a while you wouldn't be such a tight ass," Dean said as he made his way back over. He dangled the cold beverage in front of Castiel's face. A blink was what he got in response. The drink found settlement on the coffee table in front of them while Dean molded himself back into his butt shaped imprint of the furniture. He could just feel the monologue about to fall from the angel's lips.

"You haven't answered my question yet. Dean," Castiel adjusted his sitting posture to one befitting of the preaching sap he was inhabiting and, as if it were an afterthought asked "why are you acting as if my presence is inconvenient?"

'Because it is' would be Dean's desired response but he held his tongue. He didn't want to push this guy's buttons too far or it'd be back to the fiery depts with him. Castiel sighed once more.

"I understand your unyielding need to serve as your brother's protector. But these unusual desires you're housing for him are very much …" he eyed the beer can on the table. "…sinful."

Dean mumbled bitterly under his breath. "I'm not 'housing' any sinful desires for Sammy you walnut." He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. It was so stupid he was tempted to laugh.

"Then why are you longing for him like you are? I can feel your emotions radiating off your body."

"I guess all-knowing-and-seeing angels like yourself are in capable of comprehending love. I haven't been so close to Sammy in what, for me, was forty years! Excuse me for missing him a bit."

"That's your problem. It's always been your problem, since you were very young. You try to cloak your true emotions. You're all bottled up and it makes it easy to manipulate you."

That was it. Dean leapt up, kicking the coffee table to its side. The beer can rolled toward the twin beds as if hiding from Dean's ensuing rage. He took one giant step that placed him right in front of the still sitting and very calm Castiel. But not for long. Dean was gonna wipe that smug look off his face no matter what it took.

"You know what, Castiel? I'm sick of some god serving savior I just met telling me about me. You think I'm so easy to read? To control?" He leaned down close, eyes narrowed. Their noses were almost touching.

"I do."

"Then control this."

It happened before he realized what he was doing. His mind went blank and his body took over as he surrendered to the moment. He could feel Castiel tense and felt satisfied in at least making Mr. Perfect uncomfortable. But really … what the hell was he doing?

Slowly, Dean pulled back. He hovered inches from Castiel's slightly parted lips. His eyes peered into the other's. They were wide and unsteady and Dean smirked despite himself.

"What … what was …the purpose in that?"

"You tell me Cas? Since you know everything and all."

Castiel's eyes lowered away from Dean's. He bit his lip and made some kind of low mummer. "... trying to conceal your emotions by redirecting them to another source." He glanced up at Dean as if looking for confirmation. Dean chuckled softly.

"Why does there have to be a logical explanation for everything? Humans like me are illogical thinkers. We act on impulse."

" … kissing me was impulsive?"

Dean could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. The angel was speaking so softly, so quietly, as if the power of his voice might shatter their very existence. His eyes were glazed over with what could easily be placed as confusion. He was dropping his guard.

"You've never done something on a whim?" Dean whispered unsteadily, instantly disliking the way his voice betrayed him. Castiel didn't need to know how out of his mind nervous he was. The angel's eyes trailed again and for a moment, Dean was hypnotized. Eyes that moved in slow motion.

Another low murmur. "I cannot afford to indulge in such impulses. Particularly those of a …" his eyes quickly but briefly returned to Dean's then down to the toppled over coffee table. " … a sexual nature."

At this, Dean's brows shot up. If his ears weren't mistaken Castiel just said …

"You're a virgin Cas?!"

The glare the angel directed at him was closer to a devil's stare. "I am a soldier. I don't require pleasures of the flesh."

"So that, that was your first…?"

A slow motion nod and his heart skipped another beat. This was getting a little too real for him. He pulled his body back slowly and ran his palm over his face. He'd just stolen an angel's first kiss. And a male angel to boot! If God wasn't on the edge before he'd damn well fell off then. Dean made his way over to his of the twin beds, falling out on his back with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed tight. He groaned loudly.

"What I just did, how many hell points did that rack up?" he called over to the couch. The angel was quiet and Dean peaked an eye open to see if he'd died. Much to his lack of surprise, Castiel was suddenly sitting on the edge of the bed.

"A few dozen."

"Crap."

Castiel stared down at him. He bit his bottom lip again. Dean stared up at him. Watched him struggle with what he wanted to say. The words were too heavy and poor Castiel would never be able to lift them on his own. Dean knew what was happening. What's been happening. He propped himself up on an elbow, reached his hand behind the other's neck, and pulled the angel down. Castiel gasped softly as their lips once again met. Dean lavished in the taste of sin, drowned in it. For a second he was sure he'd felt the angel kiss back.

They parted a mere inches. Castiel's face took on several emotions quickly and he stared a Dean with those stolen eyes.

" … this confuses me," he whispered and Dean about melted. He let himself smile an honest smile.

"Acting on impulse Castiel …" he murmured as he slowly pressed the angel down onto the mattress. Emotions and realities blurred as the two were engulfed by the most delicious form of sinful desires.

--

Dean awoke to a rapid tapping on the window above his bed. Some bird was trying it's hardest to break into the roach motel and he made a mental note to shoot the damned thing when he got up. He ran a hand through his ruffled mess of hair, taking a gander of the room. The room smelled odd to say the least and his body felt sweaty beneath the sheets. Clothes were strewn all about, some in corners and others on the lamp post; half of them were not even his.

And then it hit him. The tingling sensation in his mouth, the unfamiliar cologne scent floating under his nose, the second set a legs brushing against his. Slowly, hesitantly, Dean looked to his side.

And there was the damned angel.

Castiel was as nude as nude got, his hair a ruffled mess and his back glistening. He was leaning over the side of the bed as if he were trying to puke out the remnants of their night together and Dean felt a tad offended.

"I couldn't have been that bad," he said with a chuckle, his voice raspy and deep. Castiel slowly pulled himself back onto the mattress, watching Dean out the corners of his eyes. He pressed the now warm beer can he'd retrieved from under the bed to his lips.

"Quite the opposite actually." He chugged a good bit of the liquid down quickly. "My apologies. I might have left some marks on your back."

Dean chuckled at the irony of the statement and wondered if this was another attempt at humor by the angel. "I thought you didn't drink, Cas?"

A genuine smile. "I took it up recently … for my health."

The bird continued knocking and Castiel shook the almost empty can and Dean laughed. He laughed harder and louder than he could remember ever laughing. He laughed at the mess they'd made of the room, at the soon-to-be-dead pigeon behind the glass, and at the fact that he was most definitely going to hell.

Again.

He sat up, stretched his back, reached out and took the tin cylinder from the angel. He downed the rest in one gulp. "So … where does this put us?"

Castiel gave another one of his life pondering murmurs. He moved, slowly and accurately, gathering his clothes from around the room. It wasn't until after he'd zipped up his dress pants and buttoned his dress shirt that he turned to Dean and said, "Where we were before."

And then he was gone. His smell. His touch. His presence.

Dean smiled and kept smiling. He knew what he'd done was wrong on so many levels. He knew that'd it'd likely never be able to happen again. But he kept smiling.

'Cause Castiel had smiled back.

No telling how long it was he sat there smiling but at some point or another, Sam returned. And he stared at the mess of a room, the tossed over coffee table, and the smiling Dean.

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"I hope you tipped her."

"Funny," Dean sneered at him. He grabbed his jeans from the nightstand, hopped into them, and withdrew his gun from under his pillow.

"What's that for?" Sam asked as he attempted to straighten up the room. Dean grinned at him and headed for the door.

"Got a pigeon to shoot."

FIN

--

Author's Note: I've been slaving over this story for the better part of the last two months and this is all I have to show for it. This terrible excuse at fan fiction. Ha ha, I apologize to all who don't support the Dean/Castiel pairing. But hey, look on the bright side. We slash loving fan girls have something other than Wincest to squeal over now. It's not really any less taboo but … it's a start.

Please review, even if you didn't like it. I want honest opinions on this one. Especially because I was so kind to leave out the sex scene I was tempted to include lol.


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